Through Your Eyes
by typewriter91
Summary: Her mind fogged over, making her dizzy. Hermione could suddenly smell alcohol and the musky smoke of a cigar. Superimposed over the view of the ceremony space in front of her came the image of an old pub and a man holding a wand to her face. She only had a moment to be confused by the override of her senses before she was hurled from her seat by a hex.
1. Prologue: Shattered Mind

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I am making no profit in the creation of this story.**

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Prologue: Shattered Mind

The course fibers of the rope dug into her wrists, no doubt leaving burns along her skin. Her shoulders were tight against Harry and Ron's on either side of her as they were all dragged harshly behind the band of Snatchers. Every fifty or so steps, one of them would trip over the other's feet and bring them all tumbling to the ground. Hermione knew her face was already scratched and bruised from her inability to catch herself before meeting the forest floor and she was exhausted by the effort of standing back up without the use of her arms. The ragged breaths coming from Harry and Ron proved they were struggling as well.

Hermione's own breaths were coming in short bursts. Her heart raced as anxiety began to crush in on her. She had always prided herself on her talent for logic and reason, but she couldn't seem to think straight in such a situation. The three of them were tied together and being herded like cattle to a slaughterhouse. She didn't see a way out, and the thought was shutting down her neural capacities. Usually Hermione worked well under pressure, the fear waking her up and kicking her into overdrive; however, she felt useless as they were marched up a deserted country lane towards the foreboding iron gates of Malfoy Manor.

Everything happened so quickly after that. Her panic seemed to break down each moment into fragments, every sound and motion coming to her in staggered surges of awareness. It was as if a defense mechanism had begun to take effect in order to prevent her heart from completely giving out. Her senses allowed her to only absorb that which she could handle.

She couldn't wrap her head around _anything_ though. The snippets of reality weren't enough to truly focus her. It was all too much.

The air started to feel as though it were stuck in her throat. Hermione gasped, trying to breath. She started hyperventilating, tears rolling down her cheeks as she fought desperately to do so. Her vision seemed to close in on itself, forming a blurry tunnel around her surroundings. The lack of oxygen to her already muddled brain was slowly trampling over any remaining thought. She couldn't take it anymore.

Her fear proved to be victorious over her reason. Hermione never even realized what was happening before Ron and Harry were removed from the room. Suddenly she was dragged by Bellatrix Lestrange into a circle. Before the Death Eater had even cast the first curse, Hermione felt her mind shatter.

Something remarkable happened then. After the first strike of the Cruciatus Curse against her body, the pain numbed and her thoughts no longer felt like her own. Hermione was drifting outside of herself, feeling emotions that made no sense when faced with such an unforgiving reality. Her eyes, which had clenched tightly as her back bowed from the intensity of the knifelike licks to her skin, unexpectedly flew open to the sight of an endless expanse of sea and sky.

Hermione could smell the salt of the ocean in the air. It tickled her nostrils and reminded her of a holiday she'd taken many years ago to Camber Sands Beach with her mum and dad. She could taste the sand on her lips as the wind kicked it up, playfully spattering the smooth grit against her. The breeze was a reprieve from the sun that she squinted up into through the cloudless sky above.

Everything was so realistic; better than a dream. She could even hear the crash of the surf against the shore as wave after wave broke, racing towards her toes until the cool water kissed her feet. The chill shocked her. It sent a shiver up her spine that caused another peculiar ripple in her mind.

The image wavered then. Hermione's balance was thrown off and her body unexpectedly collapsed forward. She fell to her knees, hands that weren't her own digging into the wet sand. And yet, they _were_ hers. She could feel wondrous sensations against her palms despite the rough appearance of the hands she saw in front of her. The cool, wet ground felt so good against her skin – Skin which was blisteringly hot from the sun-kissed air. She felt her fingers clench into the soft surface below her like claws, reveling the tickle of the sand in her nails before it was all over just as quickly as it had come.

She was ripped from the illusion. She faded slowly into the world as if coming out of a deep sleep, reluctantly regaining her sense just in time to meet the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman's mouth twisted with madness and her eyes flashed. Hermione could feel her sour breath against her cheek.

"Look how pretty it is," Bellatrix urged franticly, poking Hermione's face hard with the tip of her wand. "Look at it!"

Hermione was too exhausted to resist. The weight of her confusion had muddled her thoughts. She couldn't quite process what had happened, so she let her head fall submissively sideways. Her eyes fell over the wound, a wave of shocked sickness overcoming her at the sight of the bleeding word engraved into her arm. She couldn't bring herself to look away despite her horror.

Instead, she stared at what the madwoman had done to her while she'd been off in another world. Her arm throbbed now that she was no longer numb to reality. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to have been electrocuted. Yet somehow, she could still just as easily feel the sand against her palms; as though she'd actually been at the beach which had danced before her eyes. Her senses treasured the warm feeling of security that she'd experienced during the bizarre daydream.

She wanted to go back to that beach. Hermione wanted to feel the sunlight on her skin. If she let go, allowing her mind to drift again to places that she wasn't entirely sure were hers, maybe she'd be free. She shut her eyes dazedly, giving in to the loss of consciousness that had been threatening since Harry had uttered the tabooed name.

Hermione never went back to that beach. Instead, she awoke days later to a different oceanic view from Shell Cottage. She did think of it often though. Sometimes she would dream of snippets of white sand and cloudless azure sky, never truly knowing where the scene had been summoned from. Despite various trips to the beach with her family when she was younger, she had never seen water so turquoise one could see the fish just beneath its surface, nor had she ever felt sand so soft it was as though it were sent from the heavens.

There was no way that beach had been a figment of her own imagination.

Despite the oddness of the illusion she'd had at Malfoy Manor that day, she eventually learned to stop questioning what had happened. No matter the origin of the beach, it had saved her. Right when she'd been about to experience the greatest pain imaginable, it had magically swept her away from the harshness of her reality. It had taken her out of her body and into paradise. While her nature demanded logic and reason, she learned to stop questioning the gift and to just live with it.

Then one day shortly after the end of the war, more visions started coming. Not just heavenly visions, but those of anger and fear and regret. She would be strolling through Diagon Alley with Harry or Ron and suddenly be struck with an emotion that felt uncomfortable, as though it weren't recognized by her own heart.

It never made sense. Soon, others started to notice these bouts of peculiarity. She would be happy one moment, then the next she would be throwing a glass at a wall in rage. She would laugh at a joke a friend made, then become cold and allusive, as though they'd deeply offended her. The mixture of her own emotions with this onslaught of rogue ones was dizzying, often making her sick.

Then there were the voices. Sometimes she truly felt like there were people whispering in her ear from another dimension. She felt crazy. And she knew she seemed crazy to others, especially when the periods of double-vision began to happen more and more often. She would teeter as if on a boat, clutching something close to her until she got her bearing. Sometimes she saw greenery. Sometimes she saw rooms of a house. Not knowing what to do or how to control it all, Hermione could only pray that one day her mind would repair itself.

Because she knew only one thing for sure: Her mind had shattered that day in Malfoy Manor.

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**AN: Thank you for stopping by to read the prologue of my latest story! I was thinking about waiting to post this until Camp NaNo was over, but was too excited for it. I'm writing this for a Blaise Awareness Challenge, so I'll bet you can guess what the pairing is going to be... ;) Thanks again for reading and I look forward to hearing from you!**

**Amanda**


	2. Part One: Crazy

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I am making no profit in the creation of this story.**

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Part One: Crazy

_Hermione_

Hermione felt completely detached from the reflection staring stoically back at her. She didn't look like herself. The eyelashes were too long, the lips too pink. Her hair had been highlighted and tamed from its once chaotic curls into a chic knot. Even her eyes were outlined to appear larger than they really were and then a light shimmering gold had been added in an attempt to enhance the rather plain brown of her irises.

As the heart-shaped face in the mirror cocked to the side thoughtfully, Hermione noted the fairness of the stranger's features. Blotches of freckles that she'd always found quite charming were masked behind a porcelain layer of concealer, as though the marks were blemishes instead of merely a part of her. This too perfect version of herself felt cold, almost like it was far away. It was the face of a renaissance painting: pale, unsmiling, and seemingly unapproachable. Yet, as someone who spent plenty of time on their own, she didn't particularly _want_ to feel unapproachable. Quite the opposite actually.

"Almost ready?"

The words yanked her from her thoughts. These moments of deep introspection seemed to be happening more and more often lately, a fact which explained the look of immediate annoyance that crossed Ron's face as she shook herself back to the present.

"One more minute," she promised, glancing over her shoulder at him. He left after giving her a grudging nod of acknowledgment.

Unable to contain a heavy sigh, she made quick work of the rest of her wardrobe. The gown she slipped into had been picked out for her, as were the pearl drop earrings and high heels. The chiffon fabric of the dress felt nice and cool as she tied the floral print of its wrap around her waist. She supposed if she had to wear the towering pink heels, she should consider herself lucky that one aspect of the outfit felt comfortable.

"You look amazing," Ron smiled as she met him in their foyer. He'd been leaning against the door, looking about as bored as she was sure she'd feel the moment they arrived at the event.

Hermione grinned. "You clean up well yourself."

And she wasn't lying; Ron looked as dashing as ever in his formal Auror robes. The getup reminded her of a French military uniform from the early 1900s. The rich navy fabric had two rows of buttons on each side of his chest, which trailed downwards to his waist where it then flared out in a small cape. He wore grey trousers beneath, tucked into a pair of practical combat boots where Hermione knew his wand resided. The entire effect made him seem imposing – A man not to trifled with.

The only reminder of the boy she'd grown up with was his slightly too long mop of blazing red hair.

Pride filled her as he reached out and took hold of her elbow. Suddenly all of her frowning at the mirror and harsh opinions of her own wardrobe seemed so ungrateful. This was the life she had chosen to live when she had chosen Ron. He had stood by her side through so much, and it was the least she could do to make it up to him. These formal occasions seemed never ending, but so were her problems. If Ron could grin and bear it every time she experienced one of her episodes, then she most definitely could bite her tongue and smile through an entire luxurious night at the Ministry of Magic. Even if she had to pretend to be a completely different person for the duration of the evening.

They apparated to the Ministry in lieu of the floo network, neither wanting to chance a soot crisis. The moment the couple stepped into the grand atrium of the political epicenter of their world, lights exploded. It only took Hermione the length of a heartbeat to realize it was the flashes of photographs being taken. She felt Ron recover before she did, reaching an arm out to wrap around her waist and dragging her against his side. Hermione glanced up at him. She noted the seemingly genuine curve of his smile and gleam in his eyes. She tried to mimic it.

"There's the Head of the Department of Defense," Ron whispered down at her, ducking his head to her ear. "I've got to go say hello."

Used to such a thing, Hermione nodded her understanding. "I'll wait here."

Almost immediately after he had left her side, she smelled it: alcohol. She glanced both ways over her shoulder, looking at the trays being passed around by servers through the crowd. Each tray held four to six long stemmed glasses of what appeared to be champagne. It didn't seem to match the scent of stale beer that had formed an invisible barrier around her. Hermione tilted her head up, sniffing.

"_Hermione_!"

There was a horrified accusation in the expletive. It had come from Ginny. Hermione's head was still inclined upwards, causing the redhead to grab her arm a bit too firmly and tug her closer. The wide-eyed stare down she received meant she'd been doing it again: acting strangely. She flushed, embarrassed once the image of what she must have looked like as she smelled the air like a hound invaded her mind.

"Hi, Gin," she muttered, reaching out to quickly take a champagne flute off of the nearest tray. She thanked the server.

Ginny took the flute from her hands before Hermione had the chance to bring it to her lips. "You know you're not supposed to drink."

"It's only one glass."

"Which is one glass too many."

Hermione wanted to argue further. She wanted to tell Ginny, as she'd told Harry and Ron on numerous occasions, that it wasn't alcohol that made her act oddly. Nor was it stress. And it definitely wasn't grief, sleep deprivation, illness, insomnia, or allergies… All which had at one time or another been used as an excuse by her friends to justify something she had done that seemed bizarre or a bit left of center. Hermione wanted to remind Ginny that there wasn't some external force making her weird. It was purely and simply _her_.

_"__Your usual, sir?"_

The voice came from her right. Hermione looked over, expecting to see a nearby server or guest. There was neither.

"Did you say that?" she asked a server that passed by on her left heading in the other direction. The man gave her a confused look, no doubt startled by the urgency of her tone, before shrugging and continuing on his way.

Hermione was just reaching out to tap a woman's shoulder to ask the same question of someone else when her hand was intercepted. Ron was back from wherever he had gone off to and he had Harry in tow. Ron wrapped his much larger palm around her wrist, drawing it down and to her side as he looked around him quickly as if to make sure there wasn't more of an audience. The only two onlookers appeared to be Ginny and Harry, both who already were well aware of the "Hermione problem," as she had once heard Ron call it.

Wincing at the strength of her boyfriend's grasp, Hermione felt a hot blush rise unwelcomingly to her cheeks. "I was just –"

"I know what you were just doing," Ron said, cutting her off with a frown and a sharp look that she knew meant he was reining in his temper due to their setting. It might have been the first time ever that she was thankful for one of his Ministry events.

"There was a voice," she insisted, looking down. She knew how she sounded, but her stubborn persistence wouldn't let it slide. Even after all this time of nothing but worried frowns and rolled eyes from those closest to her, she somehow still had her pride.

Ron smiled softly then. Once upon a time, she hadn't been able to see the mockery in that smile. It was a façade. It was designed to lull her into a false sense of security. It was a smile that said plainly: I_know you're crazy and _you_know you're crazy, so let's just all settle down._

He would never have actually said that though.

"I could use a drink," he said instead, releasing her wrist to wrap an arm around her waist. He kissed her forehead as if nothing had happened. Ron was the king of "forgive and forget" – with an extra pinch of forget. It was what made him so good at pretending nothing was wrong with her despite the oddities looking him straight in the face. "Why don't we go and find our seats for dinner?"

Hermione chose not to say anything. She simply let him nod towards the large door leading out of the atrium and into a lavish hall where dinner and later dancing would take place. Harry and Ginny whom were whispering quietly between each other, obviously directing their gazes a bit too suspiciously toward Hermione, followed.

The heady scent of malt liquor hung around her still. She couldn't help but be distracted by it as she glanced around the chamber, taking in the many extravagantly dressed important people around them. She eyed the drinks on all of the tables they passed, noting to herself that no one seemed to have dared drink something so _ordinary_ as beer. She wondered if it were proper to drink beer when classical music was playing the background, as it was here.

She bumped into Harry as they reached their table. They'd come to a stop without her realizing it. He cocked an eyebrow, but grinned and waved off an apology. "Hermione, this is Donald Cowden. He's the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation," Harry told her, gesturing to a man who was already seated at the six person table along with who she assumed was his wife.

"Pleasure," Hermione said in greeting, trying to school her features. It was hard to smile while meeting a man whose surname so accurately described him. She wondered if his Patronus was a cow. The thought made her grin.

They all took their seats. The others at her table immediately launched into conversation. It only took a few minutes to realize that the Cowdens were perhaps the most boring couple in existence. Hermione found herself nodding along to whatever they said, answering any questions they asked in return in monosyllabic responses. She wasn't a good faker. If she wasn't having fun, she was horrible at hiding it. She supposed that's why, twenty minutes later, she found herself cornered by Donald Cowden as he tried to fight a conversation out of her. The boring were magnetically attracted to the bored.

"What do you do?" Donald asked.

Hermione felt the same hollow pit in her stomach that she always felt when asked this question. "I work from home."

It was a practiced response, designed to nip the conversation in the butt without providing too much information.

"Ah, in what way?" he came back with.

"Filing."

Donald laughed, thinking this was a joke. "Sounds thrilling!"

"You have no idea," she teased, smiling her most charming fake smile, which happened to not be so charming at all. Especially when her vision seemed to waver and wobble all of a sudden.

Her mind fogged over, making her dizzy. Hermione could suddenly smell alcohol and the musky smoke of a cigar. Superimposed over the view of the ceremony space in front of her came the image of an old pub and a man holding a wand to her face. She only had a moment to be confused by the override of her senses before she was hurled from her seat by a hex.

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**AN: This is the end of the first part of maybe about ten, at the way my planning has been setup so far! Thank you for taking the time out to give this a read :) Please review and let me know your thoughts! Next up will be the events of this chapter from another point of view! **

**Amanda**


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